


On a Wire

by Sister_Grimm



Series: Anarchy in Central City [2]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-29
Updated: 2016-04-29
Packaged: 2018-06-05 04:03:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6688396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sister_Grimm/pseuds/Sister_Grimm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>STAR Labs may be a dive bar but it has great live music</p>
            </blockquote>





	On a Wire

It's not quite closing time when Iris slammed the flyer down in between Barry and Cisco on the bar Barry just finished wiping down. Cisco raised an eyebrow at her and Iris  
pointed at the flyer. "Look who's going to be here next week!" She grinned widely, her braids practically swinging with her excitement and Barry cringed with an affectionate smile.

Oh yeah, Cisco totally forgot. The Rogues were playing STAR Labs next week, as the blue and gold flyer helpfully reminded him. It's a decent logo, he's pretty sure Iris could make a nicer one but this one is all sharp edges and aggression, a few steps above the fake kidnapper text he'd seen some local bands use. "Next Friday, eh?" He drawled slowly. “Should be fun?" 

"I'm reviewing it for my blog, so try not to start a fight,” she teased with a laugh.

Caitlin rolled her eyes as she walked past from clearing off the last table. "Am I the only person who actually works here?" she groaned.

Barry laughed and looked over at her, green eyes staring through shaggy blue bangs. "No one's ordered a drink in half an hour and last call is in 10 minutes." Caitlin sighed aggressively but smiled all the same.

"So gonna say anything to L...", Cisco started to say before Barry cut him off.

"Not a word. Not if Hartley says he'll never have sex with you again if you don't tell him." 

Cisco gave Barry the most offended look and pained groan he could muster. "You wound me, bro." A few strands of his man bun had fallen loose and gotten tangled with his cigarette and he was toying with his lip ring more than usual so he willed the clock to click down faster so he could enjoy his fucking smoke.

Finally two am hit and they grabbed their coats, Barry driving Iris and Caitlin home and Cisco walking so he could take his damn nicotine hit.

He doesn't have to walk far but he pulled his headphones over his ears, fiddled with his bright red bic lighter and out of habit replaced the cigarette behind his ear before managing to light the one in his hand.

He began blasting a mash up Felicity had done of one of Canary's new songs, symphonic metal with some serious growl and some of Oliver's weird homemade techno. He should put it in the rotation at the bar sometime, he mused as he took a long drag from the cigarette. It had been trivia night and that always killed his vocal chords.

His phone vibrated and he glanced at the screen through the slight haze of smoke."What are you wearing?" From Hartley, of course. He felt his breath stutter.

"Shit kickers, skinny jeans, Han shot first t-shirt with no sleeves, flannel shirt, leather jacket." He texted, excited to see what Hartley had planned. He was rewarded with a picture of Hartley with his shirt between his teeth, the swirls of the watercolour tattoo curving over his ribs and into the frame and his jeans tantalizingly low as they were left a geometric section of blackwork visible, nipple piercings noticeable and a text that read, "Come over.”  
***

The day of the show rolled around and Ronnie was already taking tickets even though the show wouldn't start for at least another hour. Cisco flexed his fingers as he adjusted the dials in the sound booth; he had finished his sleeve a couple of days ago and while it was still pretty sore, he was a fan of the way the wires traced the veins and muscles in his arm. Luckily for Hartley he was right handed. Once he was certain the settings were right he leaned over and spoke clearly into the mic, "Barry, do they rock or do they suck?" And he took the moment to appreciate Hartley swinging himself on to the stage in tight black jeans that might be cutting off his circulation but also made his ass look fantastic.

"They haven’t started playing yet.” Barry called back from the bar where he’d moved some glasses out of his way and Hartley flipped him off from where he'd landed on the stage, picking up and starting to tune his slightly beat up white Fender.

"Sound guy thinks he's a comedian!" Hartley hollered back. 

Cisco laughed and then proceeded to blatantly ignore him. "Congratulations, Barry. That was a test. You passed." They'd been doing that as sound check since Barry started working at STAR Labs and they realized both of them were huge Scott Pilgrim fans. From the booth Cisco could see the stage clearly, watched as Len tugged his hoodie over his head and exposed both his well toned arms and the American traditional sleeves on both arms. He totally ignored the various people gathered around the stage trying to talk to him. Instead he was helping Mick set up his drum kit. Lisa blew Cisco a kiss from the stage and he blew one right back. He could see both Laurel and Sara in the crowd, Laurel with her soda, and Sara with her beer, projecting their usual aura of violence and sex appeal. He’d been at the Canary show the previous night at CCU and he'd ran into Lisa there so he wasn't surprised the sisters had shown here. 

Once everyone was set up, Len hopped off the stage and ordered a beer at the bar causing Barry to flush a hilarious shade of pink and fumble a bit before uncapping a bottle and handing it over.

Then, finally Cisco got the cue to turn on the spotlight so the show could start. He wasn't surprised Barry was head over heels, Len had a hell of a voice. Smooth and clear one minute, violent and rough the next. Mick worked the drums like they were on fire, Lisa all sex appeal and Hartley.Jesus fuck, Hartley. He'd never gotten the groupie thing until the first time he saw the Rogues play and pretty much wanted to drop to his knees for Hartley then and there. When Hartley played, he was magnetic. All that well honed classical training gone rough and dark. Even after sex Hartley didn't look at peace but on stage, it seemed like sound of the guitar and the lights chased away whatever demons he had, at least for a little while.

When they paused between songs, Hartley took a swig of his beer and Cisco hollered, "So I think the guitarist was off rhythm a bit there." He was fucking with them and everyone knew it.

Hartley flipped him off again and yelled back, "Do you even know how to play guitar?"

Cisco laughed and said, "No, but I'd love to play you." He grinned, tapping his cigarette against his lower lip and he could see Caitlin trying not to laugh but it wasn't working. Len cued up the next song and Cisco switched from his cigarette to a strawberry lollipop to distract him from Hartley's iron focus. Except then Hartley looked up straight into the sound booth and made eye contact with him, his eyefucking stare apparently just as intense as his completely-into-the-music look but he doesn't miss a note the whole time he's looking at Cisco and Cisco is getting hard just from the way Hartley is looking at him, like he wants to eat him alive.

***

After the show Cisco finally got a break for a much needed cigarette. He shoved his free hand into the pocket of his coat and exhaled smoke into the cold air when he heard the back door of the bar close but didn't really pay attention until whoever it was was in his space. Then he hears Hartley's voice soft and smooth like honey, breath warm against his ear, "Do you have any idea what you do to me, Ramon? You drive me fucking crazy."

Cisco turned, looked up at Hartley and suddenly had him up against the graffiti'd concrete wall, his thigh wedged between Hartley's legs. Hartley grinded down on him and groans, "Fucking crazy. I can't think straight when you're around." And that, Cisco thought, was probably the highest praise control freak Hartley could ever give someone else. He's amazed by how wrecked Hartley already looks, black eyeliner smudged from the sweat of being on stage, eyes blown wide with adrenaline and Cisco digs his nails into Hartley's hips where he can push past the leather jacket Hartley's wearing, which on second glance looks like it could have once been Len's, and Hartley practically whines. So he moves in even closer to Hartley and kisses him roughly, tasting beer and whatever lip balm Hartley must have tossed on after the show.

When Hartley breaks the kiss, face flushed and breathing heavily, Cisco realizes that if he let him Hartley would come like this, without Cisco doing more than kissing him. Uh, no, if he had to watch Hartley be sex on a stick all night he was going to get his hands on him one way or another.

So he took a step back and Hartley slumped slightly, head resting on the wall. "Follow me," Cisco said sharply and he led Hartley back through the backdoor of the bar towards the single stall employee only washroom. Luckily no one seemed to be paying attention as Cisco locked the door behind them and popped the button on Hartley's jeans, taking a moment to appreciate the blackwork on Hartley's thigh.

"Are you just going to stare or are you going to fucking touch me?" Hartley tried to grumble but his voice broke with the dual forces of want and need, rendering the effect less than commanding. But Cisco obliged anyway. Sort of. He brushed the pad of his thumb from one end of the barbell at the head of Hartley's cock to the other, just to watch Hartley try not to scream before he made the same motion with his tongue.

He felt Hartley's knees shake as he moved agonizingly slowly he's sure, tasting every inch of Hartley's dick before swallowing him down exactly when Hartley seemed to have caught on. Cisco heard the muffled sound of Hartley nearly biting through his own lip as far as he could tell as he hollowed his cheeks and sucked. Hartley grabbed at Cisco's hair, which was still in its bun and nearly took out several chunks of Cisco's hair with the hair tie itself.

When the curses got more rapid, Cisco pulled back a bit to tongue at the piercing and he was sure Hartley could feel his lip ring when the fingers in his hair tightened and Cisco moaned at the sensation and then Hartley came and he could hear the distinct noise of Hartley's head hitting the door of the bathroom. Cisco swallowed easily - he’d always liked giving head. See also the cigarettes and the lollipops. Hartley's knees were still shaking a bit when Cisco finally stood up and Hartley dragged him in for a punishing kiss, like he was trying to taste himself on Cisco's lips.

Cisco doesn't have time to wonder about the origins of Hartley's kinks when Hartley wrapped his hand, still in the black fingerless gloves from the show, around Cisco's dick. And it probably should be unpleasant but the friction is doing ridiculous things for Cisco. "Fuck, Hartley, yes. Just like that,” he gasped in Spanish, breathing heavily in Hartley's ear. Hartley has a bit of a tendency to set a near punishing pace. Quiet, slow sex is not really his thing. Hartley got his free hand under Cisco's shirt and dragged his well manicured guitarist nails over Cisco's hip.  
"Fuck. God, you kill me Hartley," Cisco managed to say between gasps and muffled whines. He tilted his head the side, allowing Hartley to brush his hair out of the way as he bit the exposed collar bone at the neck of Cisco's shirt. "Fuck, fuck, Hartley," he murmured, on the verge of begging when Hartley moved his hand fucking perfectly and Cisco came with a muffled cry as he bit into Hartley's shoulder through the jacket.

When they left the bathroom, Caitlin was giving them an impressive level of stink eye and Iris was apparently interviewing Len Snart? Caitlin saw his confused look and said, "She traded drinks with Barry for an interview." 

Hartley snickered.

"Also I never need to hear that again, you fuckers."

"You know, I do believe that was the problem." Cisco said, laughing at Caitlin's aggressively annoyed sigh.


End file.
